Chapter 1
On their third wedding anniversary, Sebastian auctioned off his and Vivian's wedding rings.
The auctioneer's voice sliced through the room like a gleaming blade, carrying a thrill that made every ear in the crowd tingle.
"The final item tonight, personally donated by Mr. Shaw. The centerpiece is a 6.2-carat antique-cut pink diamond, and inside the band is engraved... 'Love Unto Death.'"
The room froze for a heartbeat, then burst into chaos.
Flashbulbs went wild, flooding the stage. Every gaze cut through champagne towers, sparkling jewels, and the crowd, locking onto the woman sitting in the very last row.
Vivian sat there in a black gown, her waist so slender it looked like it might snap at any moment. A tiny magnolia brooch was pinned to her ear, and she was so quiet that she seemed out of place in this world of glitz and glamour. She clutched a manila envelope in her hand, the edges crumpled from how tightly she was gripping it.
She was Mrs. Shaw.
At least, on paper.
On the auction stage, Sebastian stood beneath the spotlight, his expression cold as ice.
He wore a charcoal suit, every detail immaculate. Even the curve of his tie looked like it had been measured to perfection.
This was a man born to command from above, to issue orders, to make everyone shut up.
And he was just as suited to grinding his own wife into the ground with his own hands.
Someone let out a low gasp, already catching the whiff of scandal in the air.
From the crowd, someone asked with a playful laugh, "Mr. Shaw, isn't that your wedding ring? Won't Mrs. Shaw be upset if you auction it off?"
Sebastian glanced toward the voice, his expression indifferent. Then, almost deliberately, his gaze landed right on Vivian.
His voice was deep and clear, carrying easily across the entire room.
"Just an old piece," he said.
Just an old piece.
Those two words sounded so light, like nothing at all, but they crashed down on Vivian's heart like a ton of bricks.
Someone, bold as ever, stirred the pot. "But 'Love Unto Death', that doesn't sound like some old trinket. Sounds more like a promise."
Sebastian's lips barely twitched into a smile, cold as ice, not a trace of warmth in it.
"Promises are made for the right person," someone said.
For a split second, the whole room went still.
Everyone knew that for this charity gala, Sebastian had personally flown someone in from overseas.
Sylvia Raby.
She was the woman Sebastian had nearly announced as his fiancée three years ago, only for her to disappear on the eve of their wedding.
And tonight, she was the one who had just walked in wearing silver heels, stepping onto the red carpet.
She wore a moon-white gown, her long hair softly curled, her neck slender and pale. With a glass of champagne in hand, she stood beneath the crystal lights like a carefully staged dream from the past.
People said she was the one Sebastian could never forget, the irreplaceable light in his heart. Others whispered that Vivian had only been a substitute these three years, a shadow holding the place until the real deal came back.
Now, the original was back.
And it was time for the shadow to step aside.
Vivian looked at Sebastian up on stage and almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Her stomach was in knots, her palms clammy with cold sweat, but her fingertips felt numb and frozen.
Inside the manila envelope was the pregnancy report she'd gotten just this afternoon.
The doctor said she was seven weeks pregnant, the baby's heartbeat was weak, and she needed to stay calm—ideally, she should be admitted to the hospital right away to keep the baby safe.
She'd planned to tell him.
She'd even thought of a dozen different ways to say it.
Maybe in the car on the way home, maybe after the gala, maybe when he was in a slightly better mood.
But she never expected this was what he had in store for her.
The auctioneer kicked off the bidding.
"Starting bid, 350 thousand dollars."
"650 thousand dollars!"
"1M dollars!"
"2M dollars!"
The price kept climbing higher and higher.
Under the crystal lights, the ring slowly turned, the pink diamond casting a dazzling, icy glow, almost as if it were mocking the three years of her ridiculous, secret marriage, a marriage she could never show to the world.
Vivian finally stirred.
She walked through the crowd, her heels clicking with every step, her black gown trailing across the sparkling floor, snuffing out the light like nightfall swallowing the day.
The crowd instinctively parted, clearing a path for her.
She stood beneath the stage and looked up at Sebastian.
Her eyes were striking, the corners gently lifted. Usually, they held a lazy warmth, like a misty southern morning.
But tonight, all that softness was gone, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp gleam.
"Mr. Shaw," Vivian said, her voice not loud but steady, "shouldn't you ask the owner before putting their old things up for sale?"
Sebastian looked down at her, his gaze icy and unflinching.
"I paid for the ring," he said.